Drabbles
by ByThePen90
Summary: Just a place for some little Olitz drabbles that come to my mind!
1. Craving

A/N: The first of many (probably) Olitz drabbles. They're not mine, or this would already be canon.

/

 _ **Craving**_

He could tell she was frustrated, the emotion on every inch of her face, in her every move. The tension palpable. Her clothes were getting tighter and and her feet were often swollen. Her patience with nearly everything was thin, and her lips were pursed as she poured herself a glass of grape juice. Fitz smirked a little as he watched her. It wasn't wine. And her annoyance at that fact was beyond obvious as he observed her from the doorway of their kitchen. Even in her mood swings and the slightly melodramatic tantrums of her early pregnancy, he absolutely adored her. She drove him crazy in the best and worst ways.

It was after all, why he had married her.

He stepped into the room and wrapped his arms around her from behind. The touch surprised her, and he felt her jump before settling into the embrace.

"Hi," he breathed against her ear, his lips brushing against the skin of her neck. His body snuggly fit to the curves of hers. Fitz should tread lightly. Olivia's hormones had been sending her into a spiral of rage at the smallest thing, and the last thing he wanted to do was end up in the doghouse (Literally. The last time she had booted him from their bedroom with only their Golden Retriever, Henry, to keep him warm as he slept in the guest room without her).

But god, he **wanted** her. It had been a busy week for them. She had spent most of it in DC working on a case and Fitz had been flying around for meetings and speaking engagements. There had been little time for each other, save for a few phone calls and a Skype date the night before from his hotel. She had been wearing a simple plum colored nightie with thin straps that had made him drool over the sight of her exposed skin. Skin he wanted to kiss and caress. The thought had been distracting him all day. He couldn't get her out of his head.

He wondered if she had any idea what she did to him. What she had been doing to him since the day they met.

"Hi," she returned, her body shifting so that she was facing him. Her hands cupped his face and he leaned to meet her in a kiss.

It ended far too soon for his liking.

"Grape juice?" He asked, unable to hide his amused smirk.

She glared at him. At his nerve.

"Don't, or you won't be seeing me naked anytime soon," she threatened.

That made him chuckle. They both knew that neither would last long in the game of withholding sex. He'd have her cornered and she'd be climbing him like a tree before a week passed.

It was an empty threat.

"Do you want me to have a glass for you?" He teased further, his hands skimming up her ribcage lightly. "I can kiss you after every sip."

He leaned in for a kiss, and she swatted at his chest half-heartedly, denying him access to her lips.

"You're an _asshole_ ," she pointed out, keeping her expression serious for just a fraction of a moment before a smile broke through.

It wasn't a bad idea though, she had to admit. If she couldn't drink wine herself, the next best thing would be to taste it on her husband. And the wine kisses would lead to other things. Better things.

Things she also craved.

Olivia pulled him down for a deep kiss, her fingers diving into his curls. She felt his demeanor switch, his hands groping possessively at her ass, and she pulled back, a tiny grin on her mouth.

"Pour yourself a glass and meet me in the bedroom," she ordered, her hand trailing down his torso but stopping short of where he wanted it most.

His eyes watched her as she walked away from him in her confident, sexy strut. Her hips swayed deliciously.

How did he get so lucky?


	2. Craving 2

Craving 2.0

It was late. 3:12 AM by the blue numbers on the bedside clock. Fitz was sleeping peacefully, and barely stirred as Olivia slipped from his embrace. She teetered quietly from the bedroom and down the staircase, making her way to the kitchen. It wasn't the first time she had woken up in the middle of the night with an odd yearning that made her stomach rumble.

She shivered as the cool air hit the bare skin of her legs. The fire that had roared in the fireplace hours before had been put out before they had gone to bed. She flipped on the lightswitch, a soft light filling the kitchen and allowing her a better view. The room was chilled, yes, but it didn't stop her desire to raid the fridge. Still, she should have swiped a pair of Fitz's sweatpants to join the t-shirt of his that fell to halfway down her thigh.

Fitz had piles of t-shirts. All of his home state sports represented. His battered white Dodgers one from his days as governor, soft and worn in. His blue LA Clippers shirt that he wore when he watched every game he could catch on TV. The new navy and yellow Chargers shirt they had purchased when they had gotten box seats at a game the year before. And his faded black Kings long-sleeved shirt, worn proudly despite hockey being seemingly the least popular of professional sports in California. A few band shirts were jumbled in his collection as well. ACDC, Bon Jovi, Guns N' Roses. Mostly old-school rock, though his music taste was incredibly eclectic (Anywhere from Joplin to Jay-Z, truthfully). All of which she had, at one point or another, taken from his side of the closet and worn for comfort.

But his Navy shirt was the one she had on, and it was by far her favorite. It was the softest and long enough for her to wear with nothing else as she padded around the house during her late night kitchen excursions.

For a man who had spent a huge part of his life stuck in a suit and tie, he had plenty of casual wear. Even though the sight of him in his trademark navy suit made her weak in the knees, Olivia loved Fitz dressed down. A tee and boxers. A sweater and dark wash jeans. Or nothing. Fitz wearing nothing at all was her favorite. Which was partly to blame for the reason she was in the kitchen in the first place.

She had read and heard stories about outlandish pregnancy cravings and laughed at them. That was until she had experience them herself. Her current pairing of choice was chocolate ice cream and Kalamata olives. The week before, it had been strawberry yogurt and Cheetos. Luckily for her, Fitz had a habit of keeping an impressive and varied stockpile of junk food around for his own purposes, which gave her plenty of disgusting potential combinations to keep her satisfied. For that, she was thankful.

Her spoon alternated from dipping into the pint of rich ice cream and the jar of olives. She leaned against the counter sideways, the swell of her belly not allowing her to face it and be close enough…

He had woken up and reached for her, finding the barely-still-warm spot in bed next to him empty. Fitz pulled on a pair of navy and white plaid flannel pajama pants and sleepily ventured downstairs. If she had been in the bathroom, he would have heard her. Downstairs, surely. Another craving. They had gotten more frequent and weirder as her pregnancy progressed. It amused him to no end. Many men would be annoyed by such things, but Olivia did it all so adorably that Fitz rarely felt anything but affection towards her.

To him, she had never been more beautiful than she was then. Right there where she was propped up against the counter, spooning ice cream into her mouth. Her hair was pulled back into a messy ponytail, exposing the column of her neck to the light and his eyes. Fitz had seen her wearing various items of his clothing dozens of times, but he never got over it. There was something so loving and sexy about it. The fact that she was comfortable and comforted by wearing his things. He hoped she never stopped doing it.

"Still olives and ice cream?" he asked, his grin lighting up his tired eyes as he observed her current eating habits. "That's gross, baby," he chuckled.

She nodded with the tiniest smile, offering him a spoonful of the ice cream, which he took. He stood in front of her, mirroring her lean against the counter, his weight on his forearm and his free hand placed over her stomach.

"Did I wake you?" A guilty pout shaped her mouth.

"The bed got cold without you," he told her sweetly, giving her a soft kiss.

It was true though. Olivia put off heat like a furnace when they were cuddled up in bed. It was why Fitz often slept naked, otherwise, he wouldn't be able to hold her like he wanted to. He had been thankful when the seasons had changed and the weather had grown colder. It gave him more of an incentive to wrap his arms around her in the night. As if he needed another reason. She kept him warm, in more ways than one.

"Sorry," she murmured sheepishly, popping an olive into her waiting mouth.

"Don't be. When you're in labor, I'm sure you'll be more than willing to remind me that *I* did this to you," he teased, leaning in to kiss her again.

When his lips found hers, the starkly different salty taste of the olives compared to the ice cream he had tasted made him wince slightly, curling up his lip playfully.

"More ice cream," he insisted, swiping her spoon and taking a big scoop of the dessert for himself.

She grinned at his antics and accepted the spoonful of that he offered her. Olivia's hand went to her stomach, her grin widening as she felt their baby moving.

"Your son is wiggling around in there," she told Fitz, taking his hand and moving it to where she felt the movement.

"See? He likes ice cream too."

Fitz leaned in, kissing her deeper than before. The feel of their child fluttering in her stomach made his heart swell. The child that their love had made. Their love that had thrived despite all of the opposition against them. Olivia hummed into the kiss in contentment, her snacks forgotten.

"Come on, Livvie. Let's go back to bed," he murmured, yawning as he put the food away for her and dropped the spoon into the sink.

They returned to their bedroom and got settled, Fitz shedding his pants and Olivia shifting restlessly for a moment until she found a comfortable position that accommodated both her and her swollen stomach. Fitz settled in behind her, his body molding to hers effortlessly, his face nuzzling her neck.

"I love you," she breathed.

"I love you too."


	3. Tease

A/N-Here's a little smut. Muahaha. Also, I'm always open to drabble suggestions, so if there's anything you want to throw my way, lemme have it!

* * *

"Oh god, Fitz…"

She was panting, her body was writhing and coated in a sheen of sweat as he worked her over. He had already pulled three orgasms from her, each one seemingly stronger than the last, and Fitz wasn't letting up. His superpower was his mouth and the skilled way he used it to draw pleasure from her. He could spend hours with his head bobbing between her thighs if she would let him. It might be his favorite place in the world, second only to being buried inside of her.

He growled against her sex hungrily, her moans fueling his drive to bring her to another peak. His tongue lapped at her just so. Circles and calculated flicks. She was getting close. He could tell by the way her breath hitched unevenly. The way she had started to clutch at his curls in desperation.

"Yes, baby…don't stop…"

She was rarely loud, which could be said about her inside or outside of the bedroom, really. Not often needing to be a screamer to get her point across, but her full-bodied moans had a sort of depth to them that could drown him in the desire that he had for her. They always grew louder at the last second though, needier and throaty, confirming for him that she was, indeed, there. Right on the cusp. His lips captured her clit, and he sucked softly. She was done. Words escaped her. All she could do was call out his name, repeating it like a prayer as her body trembled through each wave of pleasure.

Fitz assisted her in riding out the high, his motions steady but slowing until her body started to relax. He looked up at her heatedly, his own arousal more than clear. Nothing turned him on like pleasing her. Her chest rose and fell visibly, his teasing clearly taking a toll on her. Her eyes were heavy-lidded as she looked down at him, but her gaze was laced with impatience. Sure, he had pleased her in a way that they both loved. He never failed to bring her pleasure. Never. But he was withholding what she really wanted. Fitz smirked up at her and leaned back down to continue his devoted attention to her…

"Fitzgerald Thomas Grant III, if you don't—"

Her words were cut off by her yelp of surprise when he flipped her over onto her stomach. Fitz covered her body with his, his mouth hovering near her ear. He hummed contentedly as he, finally, pressed into her.

"You were saying?" he breathed, nipping at her earlobe.

She chuckled and bucked her hips back against him.

"Mmm, just shut up and fuck me."

He jerked his hips forward once. Twice. Three times. But stopped short when she began to moan her approval.

"For someone in a prone position, literally, you sure are demanding," he teased, kissing her neck hotly.

She grumbled in frustration. He was really pushing her limits. He was really pushing his own limits. She had connections. She could have him killed for being such a shit.

"You're not funny…"

He gave two more thrusts, resisting the urge to vocalize his own approval of being inside of her. He stopped again.

"Fitz…"

"Yes, dear?"

"Please."

"Mmm, you're sure? I don't think you really want me…"

He dropped featherlight kisses across her shoulders.

Olivia turned her head and sank her teeth into his forearm harshly, breaking the skin, causing him to groan in both pain and pleasure. It always did something to him when she bit him. Flipped a switch that triggered the aggressively dominant side of him.

And she knew it.

He drew his hand back and slapped her ass. Hard. She cried out in response and wiggled her hips, trying to coax him to move again. He shifted, pulling away from her heat, and stood up onto his knees, freeing his hands to grip her hips firmly, stilling her efforts.

"Tell me, Livvie."

She needed to say it. If she wanted him that badly, and clearly, she did, she could tell him.

She looked at him over her shoulder, her expression full of lust.

"Please, Fitz. I need you…" she begged, her voice hoarse from her earlier moaning.

He held her gaze as he leaned down, his body realigning with hers. His hips jerked forward and he filled her again.

She eased up onto her hands and knees, her limbs shaking. Fitz's hands held her hips and with each of his sure thrusts she was countering back against him.

In sync.

As always.

His mouth trailed kisses up her spine, leading to a sharp bite between her shoulder blades. His hands found hers on the bed as his body leaned over hers. He laced their fingers and gave both hands a squeeze, his forehead resting against her back, his breath panting quicker against her skin. Her body was his bliss, and he was getting lost. His pace accelerated, their bodies audibly colliding, the sounds joining their combined groans of pleasure and echoing in the room. Bruisingly, Fitz clutched at her hips, tugging her back to meet his forceful rhythm. Olivia gasped as he pressed impossibly deeper within her, fanning the flames. Pushing her higher.

"Fitz, I-I can't…I—"

Her weight sank forward and she fisted the sheets as her climax ripped through her, her cries of satisfaction ringing. Fitz was right on her heels, grunting soundly as he spilled into her, his pleasure damn near blinding. He smoothed his hand lovingly up and down her back as he caught his breath. After a moment, he flopped beside her onto his back. His head rolled lazily to the side, allowing him to look over at his sated lover.

"Fuck…you're gonna kill me…" he told her breathlessly.

"Exactly. If you tease me like that again, I'm going to kill you," she promised, scooting over to him and tucking herself into his side, her head finding its place on his chest.

He chuckled soundly at that, his torso shaking from it. Fitz pressed a kiss to her brow, still grinning.

"Noted."


	4. On Track

A/N: I just did a ridiculous and unnecessary amount of research on the White House grounds to get a visual for this in my head, haha. The track does exist. I could definitely see them running together, and I wanted to make it fun.

PS-Still accepting drabble suggestions. Anything you have to say could spark inspiration!

* * *

 _On Track_

Fitz hated running. All his life he had been athletic and in decent physical shape. He played basketball and tennis (occasionally football if there were enough people to make it worthwhile). It was part of the whole red-blooded Republican schtick, he supposed. It was how he was raised. While he had taken the time to learn how to play guitar in high school to try to round himself out, the pressure to be a 'man's man' was strong. Be a man, love sports!

And he did.

But god, did he ever fucking hate to run.

She loved it, though, and she was dragging him along with her. Olivia moved so smoothly and with such grace. Each stride was fluid, her body barely seeming to jostle with the impact of her feet planting against the ground and propelling her forward. Meanwhile, Fitz felt like the least agile creature on the planet next to her. All crude bulk and no spunk for the activity. Normally, he knew that she worked out mostly when she was stressed. When her head was full to the brim with colliding and feuding thoughts and she needed to work her body into a relaxed state. She still used exercise for that purpose, but she was trying to keep him healthy. She would sneak into his junk food stash and switch out the worst items with fruit. She was making him run. She encouraged him to hit the weight room in the White House often with her cute little remarks about how much she loved his body. Knowing just what to say to push him to maintain his wiry, toned frame without being too heavy-handed about it.

He both loved and hated that about her.

It was the crack of dawn, and they were jogging circles around the track that Clinton had placed around the South Lawn. Four laps made a mile and thankfully, they were on their last. A mile a day to start, they had agreed, unless his presidential duties absolutely stopped it from happening. Though he was sure she wouldn't accept many excuses in that regard. It would take a war to get her to back down on keeping him fit. She was determined that the life they had just started together last as long as possible, which meant keeping him alive despite his horrid eating habits.

He was tired.

He needed coffee.

She was going to kill him.

His torso was slick with sweat and the cotton t-shirt was sticking to him uncomfortably. Their shoes beat a steady rhythm on the asphalt, though halfway through the lap, Fitz began to lose steam and he fell behind her a stride. His side was starting to cramp and each harsh breath made it clench and pull painfully. He wasn't a bit mad about it though as it gave him the opportunity to shamelessly check her out as she moved. Her black spandex running shorts left little to the imagination, her curves on display for him as she dashed ahead of him. For a moment, he was lost.

Her ass had a tendency to have that effect on him.

"Come on, old man. We're almost done," she teased, looking at him over her shoulder for a beat, a tiny smirk forming on her mouth when she caught him staring.

"I'm having pancakes for breakfast," he panted, ignoring her jest about his age. "And bacon. Just to spite you."

She laughed and slowed, just enough for them to be side by side again

"If you beat me to the gate, we can have shower sex before your meeting," she challenged, her words coming in between breaths as she looked over at him. "But I'm vetoing that breakfast."

They were in sight of the South entrace gate to the White House and she was baiting him. If he pushed himself and got there before she did, he would be rewarded.

With sex.

But no bacon.

Seemed like a fair trade.

He returned her gaze and gave her a breathless smile. His hand drew back and he gave her ass a playful spank before taking off past her in a full sprint, forgoing his agreement of the challenge to get a head start. She scurried behind him, keeping up but not passing him. It had to at least _look_ like she was trying to beat him. But the outcome was favorable for both of them if he won. The man loved bacon, but he loved sex even more.

Fitz beat her by three strides and raised his hands in victory and shouted triumphantly as he crossed the threshold of the door, the air conditioning hitting his heated skin. The agents who were posted there shook their heads in amusement. The entertainment never ended.

It was the little things, really, that kept them going. That kept them pushing through the bullshit they had to wade through since they came out as a couple.

She chuckled soundly as he stooped over and gulped in air, trying to catch his breath. Her hand smoothed over his damp back.

"Now, was that so bad?" she taunted with a smirk.

"It was!"

He stood upright and lunged at her, ensnaring her in his embrace. His face nuzzled into the crook of her neck.

"You better get upstairs and get naked," he instructed her, his voice low as he kissed a trail up to her ear. "Because it's winner's choice and I know _exactly_ how I want you…"

She hummed her approval of his words.

"I serve at your pleasure, Mr. President…"


	5. Picking

_Picking_

Fitz loved being outside. He always had. Nature had always made him feel at ease. For a rich boy who had grown up in California, he had taken incredibly well to the countryside of Vermont. It was no Santa Barbara, that was for sure. He had traded palm tree and sand for the orchard and brisk sunrises. But he loved it. He loved the cool, refreshing air and the gorgeous colors of the leaves that had changed with the season. It was tranquil. The hustle and bustle that had once been his life in the White House seemed another world away when compared to the slow, calm way of living that he had adjusted to.

That _they_ had adjusted to.

He and Olivia.

It was Saturday morning and they were making their way through a section of the orchard. They had hired a small staff to handle the thirty acres of fruit-bearing trees most of the time. With Fitz still flying out now and then to endorse someone or give a speech and Olivia still managing OPA from a distance, they didn't have every moment to devote to caring for the property. However, it was peak apple season, and Fitz wanted to enjoy it. With his family. Karen was off at school or she would have been there. She had chosen Yale and was doing well. Certainly living up to the Grant name. Teddy was perched high on Fitz's shoulders, reaching for an apple that he just _had_ to have. The red delicious gleaming in the morning light was just too much for him to resist.

"Daddy, I can't reach it!"

Fitz tugged the giggling boy from his shoulders and hoisted him up high, allowing him to pluck a few of the choicer ripe ones. As they were dropped down into the large basket on the ground, one slipped and knocked Fitz in the nose firmly, causing him to let out a guttural grunt, which only intensified Teddy's laughter.

"C'mere, you little monster…"

Olivia heard the ruckus three rows over and smirked to herself as she followed the direction of the sound. Her boys. Always getting into something. She thrived on their silliness. Their laughter gave her life, and she knew that she had made the right choice. Her life with Fitz in Vermont was all she had ever dreamed of. Their happiness in the little moments was what she treasured. Tucking Teddy in at night. Brushing their teeth together in the mornings. Snuggling on the couch together in front of the fireplace. They had earned it. Every moment they had earned.

They were on the ground when she found them, in the clear path between the rows of trees, Fitz tickling Teddy and both of them laughing heartily. In their own little world. She simply watched for a moment. Fitz was on his back with Teddy wiggling wildly in his arms, trying to get away as his father drew fits of giggles from his little body.

"Can you two do anything without getting dirty?" she asked with amusement, any annoyance was only half-hearted.

Teddy jumped up at her words, finally escaping his Fitz's 'torture.' He scampered over to Olivia and hid behind her leg, peaking out at his father. Both of them still had that playful glint in their eyes.

"We filled up the basket!" he said excitedly, pointing to the basket that was full of the apples they had picked.

"Good! Now we can bake some pies," she told him as she smoothed his mussed hair down, the gesture nothing short of motherly.

"Come and help me up. I'm old and injured," Fitz called out dramatically, grinning as his son came over and tried, unsuccessfully, to tug him up from where he was on the grass.

"Here, let me help. Daddy's heavy, _and_ a big baby," Olivia said with a smirk, walking over and offering Fitz her hand to help him up.

With Olivia's assistance, Fitz pushed against the cold ground and hoisted himself up into a standing position. Her hands brushed the dirt and debris off of his navy blue sweater. His cheeks were flushed from both the morning chill and the laughter and efforts of playing with his son. The son that was chasing their dog, Henry, down the orchard row, headed back towards the house.

"You said injured, what happened?" Olivia asked him, concern momentarily showing on her face.

"He dropped an apple on my face," he told her, his expression serious for only a fraction of a second before he chuckled again.

She swatted at him playfully and leaned in for a kiss, which he eagerly met. Their noses bumped, as they often did, and he winced and murmured in discomfort, drawing back slightly. He pouted.

"Maybe if your honker wasn't so big, it wouldn't get in the way of things….like apples…and kisses," she teased, her grin playful and wide as she pulled him down for another, more careful, kiss.

"How can you be cute _and_ rude at the same time?" he mused, smirking against her lips.

"I'm the formidable Olivia Pope," she quipped, taking his hand in hers and walking them over to the full bushel basket of apples.

"Pope-Grant," he corrected pointedly, picking up the basket.


	6. Hard Pressed

A/N-I'm not quite sure where the inspiration for this one came from, but I realized it could fit into what we've seen in the promo/sneak peeks of tonight's episode (5x05). Hope you enjoy!

* * *

The blinding light from the press cameras was particularly distracting as they made their way out of the restaurant. They had been out as a couple for about a month, but the pressure from the media had only increased. It seemed like every day, the swarm of media around them, no matter where they went, grew larger. They couldn't have a moment alone outside of either the Residence or her apartment. Everywhere else, there was at least a chance of eyes being on them constantly. But they didn't regret it, deep down. They had grown weary of loving each other in hiding. It was new and it was scary, but they were free.

Sort of.

The freest they had ever been.

Fitz, to some degree, had grown used to being surrounded by the press. As the President, they seemed to want to know his every move and delve as deeply into his personal life as they could. Olivia hadn't experienced much of that herself until the photos of her in the Residence had been leaked. They speculated and pressed her, and they would be lying if they said it wasn't wearing them down a little. Despite their strength together as a couple who knew that nothing would tear them apart, they craved a little peace. Even after everything they had been through together, it was testing them. All of the cameras flashing. All of the shouted questions. They usually tried to ignore it and did so somewhat successfully, but Fitz had been struggling. It seemed like the questions coming from reporters were growing more personal. It made him so angry, but it made Olivia uneasy and nervous. Especially the crowd. Olivia Pope could handle it with a hand tied behind her back, but when she was with him, when they were in public together, she was his Livvie. it was different. It opened her up and made her vulnerable in a completely different way.

It wasn't easy, for either of them.

He felt her tense in his embrace as they drew closer to the car, as the shouting got louder in a last ditch attempt to get their questions heard. As the crowd pushed harder against the perimeter of agents around them. Then he heard it. A voice that stood out amongst the rest, close to them, and not backing down.

" _What's it like tapping that sweet chocolate ass, Grant?_ "

Fitz looked up, wide-eyed and nostrils flared, seeing a scuzzy looking guy who was chewing gum and smirking. There was no doubt in his mind who had made the sleazy remark. He just knew. As he stared at the man, something inside of Fitz snapped. He lunged for the greasy-headed reporter before his agents could anticipate the move. Olivia attempted to stop him, but he easily slipped from her grasp. He was too quick and too strong for her, in that circumstance.

" _Fitz, don't!_ " she called out to him, still reaching to try to stop his recklessness.

He was livid.

" _You low-life sonofabitch_ ," he snarled in disgust, drawing his hand back to pack a punch.

David, one of the agents, caught his arm before Fitz could throw the blow. He struggled against the agent's grapple, desperately wanting to bust the reporter's face in. The disrespect was baffling. How dare he talk about her body that way? Like she was just a sex object. Like he even had a right to lay eyes on her. The scene was only intensifying around him as Fitz tussled against the force that held him back. They were trying to restrain him, to calm him and get him out of there before the situation got out of control. Fitz had given them something to report and it was a frenzy.

Olivia moved around to a face him, ignoring her agent, Phil, who was trying to shield her from the scuffle. When she met his gaze, there was a fire there that frightened her. He averted his eyes back to his task though, and she knew she needed to do something. She understood, but he needed to stop. It could be salvaged, but if he kept making a scene, it would make him look like a loose cannon.

She needed to stop him.

" _Fitzgerald!_ " she shouted, just a hint of scolding laced in her commanding voice that refused anything other than his attention.

She knew he heard her, but he was still jerking against David, trying to free himself.

" ** _Look at me_** ," she demanded.

He obeyed her, and when he saw the solemn expression she wore, he relaxed enough for the agents to release him. Three Secret Service agents who surely weighed in at close to half a ton couldn't stop him, but the words of his 120 pound lover could. The way she looked at him.

 _'My every feeling is controlled by the look on your face.'_

The words he had once told her in the Rose Garden. It was still true.

It was amazing, the power she had over him.

He was still absolutely seething under the surface, his face flushed with the rage he felt. She watched him loosen is tie a little, needing to cool down. She stepped to him fully and tucked into his side where she had been before he had pulled away to handle the slandering of her name. They started walking again. Part of her was proud that she had someone who was willing to stand up for her that way, even if they would have to deal with the blowback later. He cared for her, her reputation, and the public standing of their relationship enough to want to punch a reporter who had tried to reduce her to a fetish.

Chivalry wasn't dead.

She resisted the urge to give him a very public kiss, knowing well that they had indulged the press enough for one day. They had to reshape the narrative. I had become too much. The dirtying of her name. It bothered her, but not nearly as much as it bothered Fitz. Yes, they had engaged in an affair, but the world was seeing it as something it wasn't. It had never been about the sex for them, regardless of how good it was. They had fought against their feelings for each other. Fought hard. Turning the other cheek in hopes that it wasn't real. Hoping that it would go away. But it hadn't. And even later as they both ran or pushed the other way, their feelings had remained the same. They were in love. For better or worse. But the public only saw a sex scandal, and while it broke down Olivia's spirit more than a little, she knew it was breaking Fitz's heart.

They got into the car, the sound of the reporters finally muffled by the closed doors. Olivia sighed quietly and reached over, taking his hand. The hand that had so nearly collided with the reporter's face on her behalf. It wasn't fair. None of it. They were finally about to be in love openly, but the world wouldn't let them have it. Olivia wished that they could just be ordinary people. That they could disappear to Vermont and just...be.

But he had a country to run, and she had to be there to support him as he did it.

For better or worse. They might not have the rings to prove it yet, but that's what they had in mind. They were doing it together from now on, they had decided. No matter what.

He was too quiet. Still obviously angry and fuming internally over the situation. She brought his hand to her lips, kissing each of his knuckles affectionately.

" _I think it's time for that interview,_ " she told him.

It was time for them to tell their story.


End file.
